


There's Blood on My Best Dress Shirt

by bruisecore



Category: Death Note (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Delusions, Gen, God Complex, Hallucinations, Mental Health Issues, Mentally Ill Light, Psychosis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-21 04:44:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11350119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bruisecore/pseuds/bruisecore
Summary: Light knows what he is, what he is meant to do.Or, the one in which Light experiences psychosis.





	There's Blood on My Best Dress Shirt

**Author's Note:**

> This one is pretty straight forward. I've been sitting on it since 2014 so I decided to finish it and just get it up here.
> 
> TW for general psychosis type things like delusions and hallucinations, as well as some description of blood. Idk if this will be triggering for other psychotic folks since I had to write it, but y'know, as always, tread cautiously if you're close to an episode or something.

There’s blood on Light’s hands for a second. It’s slippery and sticky, and it slides down between his fingers. It’s lovely, it’s red, and it’s as figurative as comparing a tie to a noose, but blood is blood. It’s the lives of criminals, ingrates, and all the other scum that hides in dark corners of the city like dirt beneath fingernails. The new found sense of power makes Light giggly and paranoid.

His laughter is shattering glass, gently accompanied by the contemplative  hum of the A/C and the sun lulling down the sky, away, away. Power is lovely and all, but Light can’t help have his doubts. All reasonable, mature, people have their doubts, after all.

But Light is no person. He’s God. 

Even in his bedroom, hunched over and scratching away at his Calculus homework to the senseless footsteps outside his room, he’s God. Justice. The embodiment of all that is right in the world, just as L is everything treacherous.

 

-

 

Light sees blue butterflies everywhere he goes. Tiny things with fast, fluttering wings, looking for something neither he, nor they, can see. If Light believed in good luck, he imagines that he might think of them as a symbol of it. 

 

They are much more numerous when he does something well. A congratulations, a thank you, a threat. He finds that on days he doesn’t find any, not even after checking every flower in his path, Light is slower, and the world seems to rumble and melt in front of him.

 

-

 

Light reads the news in the papers his father subscribes to every evening at the dining table. In the kitchen, his mother sings along with the radio when songs from the 60’s come on, and washes dishes and makes tea. Light listens to the news on TV whenever he’s alone in the living room, tuning out commercials that he has long since learned he cannot understand. He scours the internet to fill in the gaps, to correct the embellishments and guesswork reporters like to use to seem like their empty heads are full. 

 

It’s what he does in between the things others expect of him, what he expects of himself. After class but before cram school. Before studying and after dinner and “Family Time,” when he has ten minutes scheduled in as a buffer to make sure he has the time to refocus and transition to the next activity he has to perform. Light likes it, especially when it makes him feel angry and extra righteous. It’s even better when he’s truly alone in the house and can talk aloud and smile at thin air - peel the mask and reveal the glee.


End file.
